


Part of the Problem

by Phoenixgriffin260



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Family Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, One Shot, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-17 08:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16512494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixgriffin260/pseuds/Phoenixgriffin260
Summary: Everybody knew that you didn't talk about the marks on your skin. After all, to have a soulmark was to carry the vilest things that your soulmate believed about themselves on your skin.Miu is marked, and others want to ask. Ask if her soulmate is okay. After all, the words are pale, shimmering, gold- they looked uncomfortable. Miu grins at them, and assures it's /going/ to be fine.She knows he isn't fine.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Suicide attempt, Graphic descriptions of violence, Mention of self harm.

Everybody knew that you didn't talk about the marks on your skin. After all, to have a soulmark was to carry the vilest things that your soulmate believed about themselves on your skin. It was sacred, even if everybody had one. Sometimes in cursive, sometimes in bold. Each was different, but no matter what, you never ask.

Miu is marked, and others want to ask. Ask if her soulmate is okay. After all, the words are pale, shimmering, gold- they looked uncomfortable, as if they were scars of tattoos gone wrong, that burned under the sun. Miu grins at them, and assures it's _**going**_ to be fine- that he's just in hospital after he broke his leg at school, and they relax, giving her their wishes and thoughts. But still, they glance at the glittering words with fear, stepping back, giving her a range.

Pale words mean that they're dead. Or dying.

She knows he isn't fine, if just for that.

 

Sometimes, in class, she zones out, staring deep into the words, watching the sheen change and ripple with every passing heartbeat, imagining what it would be like to have a normal soulmark- deep and dark, one that doesn't make the teachers ask constantly (day after day after day after day) if she needs help. Her classmates give pitying words or snap at her like she's carrying the plague  (Miu remembers one of her smaller classmates sliding her a foul glance, drawing himself into a sneer and whispering to the students near him). 

They don't get it. She doesn't need the help. It's her soulmate that does. New words are added soon after each other, running the phantom ink dry, letters patchy like somebody was shaking as they wrote. 

Sometimes, she's angry at the world for giving her this soulmate, before she tears up, tracing the words lightly, afraid of pressing down and accidentally breaking them, sending them to their death. Sometimes, she finds herself in both her dads arms, ranting about how the school should try and find this person, help them from whatever shitty hell hole they're trapped in as they give in themselves to death. 

Miu wants to tear up things, break things the same way they are.

 

She finds herself staring into the void as beside her Toko laughs about how Togami, out of everybody, is unmarked, the discussion slowly turning towards hers.  She laughs bitterly, drawing up her trouser leg, showing the cascading pale words. Toko frowns, turning to Kirigiri, the two whispering in hushed tones, Kirigiri drawing up her sleeve, where tan brown words criss cross the skin. 

Kirigiri smiles, before pointing to Toko, who rolls up her sleeve, to show a darker version of the same colour overlaid on thin scars that could only be made by scissors. Miu stills, connecting the pieces, before she crumples, vacant eyes locked dead onto her own arm. 

Toko whispers into Miu's ear, taking her shaking hand like Kirigiri had once hers.  _They can be helped. You can help them._ It was murmured, repeating.

She was supposed to be strong, resilient to everything, and yet the thought of her soulmate going to such lengths to quicken their... 'departure'? It lights a low, lasting rage. She isn't strong. She isn't resilient. But she sure as hell is going to get back at their abuser. 

 

Miu finds Togami curled up in the corner of the English room. Miu finds him not looking like how he acts (egotistical and cold, with a tongue as sharp cobra venom) but instead breathing like he was chased,  eyes wild and full of fear, hands tangled into his hair. 

Miu finds Togami with lacerations bleeding sticky rivulets down his arm, clotting his hair into matted strands. Him scratching at the cuts, skin flaying near the edges, adding their own warm blood. Him trying to rip new wounds into his arm, trying to hit bone, hissing all those words she found. 

There's bruises all down his neck and collar, some as dark as a soulmark, but seeping tiny drops of blood into his clothes. He's crying, the tears getting caught on the dried blood, the tears turning red themselves. 

A scalpel, blooded from the blade to the hilt, lay kicked under a chair. 

 

Shakily, she calls 120.


	2. Chapter 2

Miu takes a deep breath, still shaking, pulling the extra gause from her pant pockets- _thank fuck I had it on me_ , she thinks, leaning down next to the quivering Togami. The blood had mostly stopped, but she wraps his arms in the stuff anyway. 

She didn't want to risk it. Any of it. Infections or the heir getting to them again.

The inventor hums a tune while she dresses the...the wounds (cuts, her mind adds bitterly, snapping it at her), not to make fun of the situation but to just distract herself by focusing on something, anything, that wasn't those. Anything. She thinks she almost pleads.

Togami watches, barely moving except for the few hiccuped breaths that came from heavy crying. He glances towards the uncovered marks almost with a startle, stilling before he could move. 

He feels the tugs on his skin and the urge to tear it all apart just to watch it- him- bleed again. 

 

She turns, picking up the scalpel, turning it over and over in her hands. Some of the blood is still wet, but she doesn't recoil, instead turning back to Togami. 

He nearly yelps, pulling back, eyes trained on the bloody blade.

Miu opens the window, breaking the blade with a resounding metallic crack, before throwing the hilt out the window. She drops the blade in the bin, before piling the plastic covers over the top. 

Drawing back even further into the corner, he lets out a whimper before he could catch it in his throat. The inventor gives a pitying  (guilty?) look to him, murmuring something deep under her breath. 

She leans down, before taking a seat next to him with a heavy breath. Burrowing her face into her hands, she lets out a stifled groan that Togami finds himself agreeing with. 

 

"What the  _ **fuck.**_ " she breathes out, slumping in her makeshift spot on the floor. "They're all fucking--" Miu frowns, hissing. "Why didn't the teachers help?" 

He eases, realising that no, she isn't a threat. She could, somehow and inconceivably, help..? In response to herself, she laughs, cold and bitter. It's the same one Togami used to do. "Please," It's forced out, strangled by her chords. "Don't speak. You'll hurt yourself, huh?" 

Togami shrugs, pointing, flinching and biting the edge of his tongue, at his arm. Lazily, he traces an 'X' in the air. Thankfully, Miu gets it. 

"Those motherfucking shitholes." It's monotone and the heir has to shuffle painfully to stop a convulsive laugh. "Wouldn't that be illegal?" She huffs, crossing her arms and pouting in the distinctive 'I want to fuck shit up' Miu way. 

He nearly tries to shrug, but he feels the pins threading rose thorns through his arms before he can. 


End file.
